


No Fuss

by MusicalLuna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Team Fluff, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 21:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15300810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: Tony's sick, but no one needs toknowthat.





	No Fuss

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> I got really sick this afternoon, could i maybe have something with Tony Stark being sick, and trying to hide it? And someone takes care of him?
> 
> i’m sorry you don’t feel well! i hope this helps <3

Tony pulls on Rhodey’s air force hoodie when he crawls out of bed at eleven.

He’s grateful it’s Saturday because that means he doesn’t have to try and piss Pepper off in a sentence or less so she doesn’t realize he’s sick.

Miserably, horribly sick.

His chest aches and his lungs feel like they’re filled with wet cotton and his head is throbbing—he’s had hangovers that felt better than this.

At the bedroom door, he pauses a minute to put his head against the wood and moan to himself, “Ughhh, whyyy.”

Then he sniffles and smacks his cheeks a little to try and make himself look less like death warmed over. He’s forty-three and he’s not about to let his teammates see him as the old man just because the only one older than him is Banner. And Thor, technically. Whatever.

The point is, he’s not old and he’s not sick and no one can tell him otherwise.

He takes a deep breath and then stands there hacking for another three minutes.

Finally, when his breathing has faded to just a slight wheeze, he opens the door and heads for the kitchen.

He hears voices as he approaches, so he picks up the pace and lifts his head, even though it sucks the energy out of him almost instantly. Shoulders back, he strides into the kitchen and makes a beeline for the coffeepot without looking around.

Still, he sees Steve’s broad back at the stove from the corner of his eye and hears Clint explaining what the Muppets are, so Thor must be here too.

Blessedly, when he reaches the coffeepot, it’s full, and hot, and  _thank you_. He quickly fills a mug, ignoring how his arm shakes from the exertion (ha!) of holding the full pot. Then he lifts the mug up to his face, steam curling around his cheeks and softening the lump of gunk in his head so that it aches ever-so-slightly less.

He groans a little and then starts when Thor calls, “Coffee is good, is it not?”

“Ow, shit,” he hisses, when some of the liquid slops over the edge.

“I did not mean to startle you! Are you injured?”

“No, I’m fine,” Tony blurts, forgetting he sounds like he’s been gargling battery acid. Fortunately, no one mentions it, so maybe it’s not that noticeable.

He takes a sip of the coffee and grimaces. It tastes awful. Damn colds ruin everything.

He’ll drink it anyway.

“Have a seat, Tony,” Steve says, “I’m just about done with the eggs and bacon.”

“He tried French toast and he burnt it all,” Clint confides with a cheerful sort of evil glee.

Steve glares and Tony can’t help but smile.

“Sure, why not,” he says and gratefully sinks onto one of the chairs at the counter.

Thor gives him an entirely too-knowing look, but instead of the question Tony’s bracing for, he says, “Do you know of these Muppets Clint speaks of?”

“Uh huh, sure,” Tony says and tries not to cradle his coffee too lovingly.

“Who was your favorite?” Clint asks.

“Rizzo,” Tony answers immediately, because it’s what people would expect him to say.

Clint snorts. “No, it wasn’t. Who was it really?”

Tony feels a little weird about Clint catching him out in that lie so easily, but it’s too hard to think and he can’t muster up the energy to get worked up about it. “Kermit,” he admits.

“The frog!” Thor says, obviously pleased that he recognizes what Tony’s talking about.

“Yeah.” Tony hides his smile with another sip of vile coffee. “I hated Sam the Eagle,” he adds absently.  Clint gives him a look that says  _go on_. He shrugs. “He reminded me of Captain America.”

There’s a very awkward silence and that’s when Tony’s brain catches up with his mouth. He sips his coffee aggressively, horrified.

“Well,” Steve finally says, shooting a crooked smile over his shoulder, “hopefully you like Steve a little better.”

It sounds like a question and Tony’s clearly lost control of his faculties because he says, “Yeah, Steve’s okay. Captain America’s a real asshole though.”

He’s wildly relieved when Steve laughs.

“Glad to hear it. Breakfast’s done.”

Clint leans up on his barstool to peer across the way. “How much of it’s burnt?”

“Only about twelve percent,” Steve says with a sly look at Tony.

Tony groans. “She told you about that. When will that woman let me  _live_.” He glares halfheartedly at Steve as he sets a plate down in front of him. “I could amend my opinion of Steve, you know.”

Steve grins. “Eat your breakfast.”

When he looks down, Tony’s surprised to find there are two orange gel capsules on his plate along with the un-burnt looking food.

When—how?

Finally, he decides not to question it and surreptitiously pops them in his mouth, swallowing them down with another mouthful of unpleasant coffee. He nibbles at the food after that, but it doesn’t sit well in his stomach.

His temperature must be spiking again because his head feels like it’s full of air and he’s shivering even though it feels like he could heat the eggs Steve gave him back up on his face.

He startles when Thor drapes a furry blanket across Tony’s lap. “Feel this,” he commands.

Tony works his fingers free of his cold coffee mug and reaches down to pet the fur. He hears himself make a quiet noise in his throat when he touches it. It’s thick and incredibly soft.

“Much better than your ‘fleece’, is it not?”

“I’ll say,” Tony murmurs, slowly clenching his hands around fistfuls of it. It’s also  _warm_. “’s nice.”

Belatedly, Tony realizes Thor has left the blanket on Tony’s lap and he doesn’t appear to have any intention of retrieving it.

 _They knew_ , the functioning part of his brain realizes.  _They knew and they didn’t make a fuss._

He’s a little embarrassed that he tried so hard for nothing, but it’s eclipsed by the warm rush he feels at the fact that they’re quietly taking care of him.

“Thanks,” he blurts, staring down at his plate and hoping they know what he really means.

Thor’s big, hot hand settles over the back of his neck and Tony’s eyes slip closed at how good it feels. “You need not thank us,” he murmurs. “We are your comrades and it is only right.”

Tony giggles mentally.  _I have comrades._


End file.
